


artificial

by ThatOddHaystack



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10181015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOddHaystack/pseuds/ThatOddHaystack
Summary: short, vague kiibo piece; i like robot angst tropes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> probably not canon compliant, but i had an idea for a short kiibo thing and Here It Is. i don't write fic at all usually but kiibo got me good

You are not...

The sentence trails off in your mind, your own brain not willing to form the word. Or is what you have even called a brain? It's tangled wires and circuit boards and computer chips that make a facsimile of what a... a different person would have as a brain, but it's not flesh and blood.

You feel their eyes on you as you move through the school's bizarre hallways. You know they don't trust you, that they're all on guard as you walk past them. No one trusts anyone right now of course, you all being stuck in this "mutual killing game" nightmare. But you feel that you are the most suspicious of the group. It's easier for them to empathize with other... organic bodies as opposed to someone like you, born in a lab and made of metal instead of muscle. You try not to let it get to you but being suspected simply for being who you are is taking a toll. 

But you understand why they are wary of you, of course. Who's to say you don't have weapons built into your limbs; are being controlled by someone hellbent on murder. You're not even sure yourself if you're safe. 

The ones who don't avoid you completely seem to treat you as lesser still, than them. That boy with the purple hair takes a special delight in tormenting you, like you suppose one would take joy at poking a stick through the bars in a lion's cage. That inventor girl too, drifts towards you on occasion, her interest in you purely because of her talent. You don't like her much though, she's too loud and abrasive and you shrink back from her when you see her in the halls. 

You lay on your bed, holding your hands up to the ceiling light and clenching and unclenching them. Finely detailed artificial tendons let you do this, but it's still just a little bit inferior to "real" musculature. Or at least, you feel that way. 

"Would it even matter if I died?" you think to yourself. Would you even count as a person, really? Your consciousness is just 0's and 1's at its core and your body is fake. Would spilling oil instead of blood still really count as a murder? 

You roll over on your bed, facing the wall and staring into it like you can see through it. Maybe you should just let yourself be sacrificed for the others, you think. It would appease the need for something to be killed, while at the same time no one would be guilty of killing a... a...

A human.

You feel the need to sigh, and you do so, although the fact that this is a conscious decision is just another reminder that you're not like them and you never will be. There. You admitted it. You're not human. 

The word rests in your brain like a hot stone, heavy and burning through your thoughts. 

You close your eyes, wishing you could sleep. 

You wish you were human.


End file.
